


Sweet Though in Sadness

by norah



Category: Temeraire - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-18
Updated: 2007-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norah/pseuds/norah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roland and Laurence talk about the plague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Though in Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to Artaxastra, Dine, Grace, and Sociofemme.
> 
> This story has been Jossed - Noviked? - all to hell at this point, but it is for Penknife, such as it is.

Excidium lay slumped in the pit, blue skin dull with dust. He was so still Laurence wondered briefly if he yet lived, before dismissing the idea from his mind. Surely things were not so far gone as all that. As they drew closer, he could see the great mountain of the dragon's chest rise and fall in labored breathing, and see that his enormous eyes were open, though glazed with misery.

Emily ran to Excidium and knelt beside him, heedless of the sand on her best breeches. He raised his head wearily and snorted in greeting, sending gooey fluid dribbling out of his nostrils into the pit, and then settled back, exhausted. Emily stroked his enormous jawbone softly and murmured something to him.

"Laurence," she said, looking up, "May I get some water from the pond and wash him off a bit? Just his nose, and maybe clean some of the sand off the itchier places. You know Temeraire always complained of it when we were in the desert." Her voice broke and Laurence saw the glimmer of wetness at the corners of her eyes, but she continued on gamely. "Perhaps I can make him a bit more comfortable while you and Mother talk."

"I am sure he would like that," Jane said, looking to Laurence for permission. He nodded.

"Only go change out of your visiting rig, Emily, and find something more suitable, before you ruin your breeches altogether. And I will expect you to be presentable again for supper."

She nodded and said, "Oh, thank you, Laurence! I'm sure one of the crews will lend me something," and to Jane, "I shall take good care of him, Mother," before scampering off toward the ground crews' sheds, bucket already in hand.

Jane leaned on Laurence and they watched Excidium in silence for a moment before turning away. "Walk with me, Laurence," she said, and he nodded and offered his arm. She strode off toward the practice grounds, oblivious to the gesture. He started after her and caught up as she reached in to undo the latch on the gate.

The grounds were empty, and seemed larger than ever for the absence of the usual riot of dragons and harnessing crews. Jane went to one of the mounting blocks and heaved herself up on it, swinging her heels against the stone and patting the spot next to her in invitation.

"Jane, I – I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I had no idea it had gotten so bad, none at all. Of course they told no-one, or I should have come home months ago," he said awkwardly.

"Nonsense," she said. "You had to get those eggs, and where would we be if you had not? Between the two eggs and your chance-met ragtag band of ferals, you have brought England all the air power she has. And you could have done nothing here."

"All the air power England has," Laurence repeated, and snorted. "Oh, Jane, I am not sure she will thank me for it. Dragons we have, to be sure, but when it comes to obedience, or trustworthiness, or training, or stealth – most of all stealth, I am afraid – we are sadly lacking still." He told her about Iskierka's midnight bovine raiding adventure, and by the time he got to the bit where the farmers were staring with wide eyes at the mad hybrid of dragon and cow as it galloped around the pasture squealing and shooting flames, both of them were snickering.

Jane leaned against Laurence. "Granby will have his hands full, certainly - dragonets are such silly creatures!" she said. "Remind me to tell you about the time Excidium stuck a great pebble up his nose and got it lodged and none of us could get it out for fear of being sprayed!" She laughed at the memory and then her face crumpled in the middle of her laughter and she started to cry, great heaving ugly sobs.

She shook and gasped and Laurence put his arms about her and said, "Oh, my dear," and hung on until the worst was past and she was only hiccupping and sniffling against his coat. Laurence pulled back and fished out his handkerchief for her, and she took it with a watery smile, blowing her nose in a most unladylike fashion.

"You don't know, Laurence," she said. "It's been so awful. He's so sick, and I can't do anything to help him, and," a few more dry sobs escaped, "he's going to die like the rest of them, soon."

Laurence wanted to comfort her, to deny it, but he could not. He'd seen Excidium for himself, listless and wasted in the sand pit, and if he wasn't at death's door he was very near it.

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "And there you are, out on your own in the thick of it, and not knowing why we didn't send help. Lord, Laurence, I am so very sorry; we would have given anything to be there with you, you know that."

"And how I wished you could have been," he assured her, one arm still about her shoulders. "I thought of you often, even meant to bring you a trinket or two from the Chinese markets – you should see them, the markets, that is, they're amazing, the dragons walk the streets and haggle like anyone – but the things I bought were smashed in the fighting, and I had no chance to replace them."

She sniffled and waved impatiently, handkerchief crumpled in her fist.

"And I haven't even asked you about it! All I've heard are the rumors, but the whole thing sounded quite bloody and barbaric. Were you really attacked in the palace itself? And are you truly a Prince of China now?" Jane's eyes and nose were still red, making her scar stand out more prominently, and she looked an utter mess, but some of her customary spirit showed through in her curiosity.

Laurence grimaced. "And I should have written before now to tell you, too, but the mail to the coverts is – well, you know better than I, I dare say, and that before the couriers fell ill. I thought you might like to hear it from me directly, in any case. I hardly should have believed any part of it, much less the whole, had I not been there, and I scarcely know where to start."

"The last word I had of you was when the courier brought your letter last year, with a note from Harcourt saying she'd seen you, and that Temeraire had been injured in an action but should recover. Start there, and then go on, if you don't mind; I am sure the tale of your wild adventures will raise my spirits today."

An hour later, Laurence had barely gotten through the battle with the sea-dragon and the flight from Macao, and was describing the action at the palace in terms that would interest a fellow soldier. She followed his description of their makeshift fortifications and the odds against them with a keen tactical eye, and he was showing her, with the aid of a few twigs and a nearby pebble or two, the arrangement of the small band of allies in the pavilion, and how they had been besieged, when she interrupted.

"Laurence, I do not mean to play the anxious mother – it's a role that would ill suit me in any case – but I should like to know how Emily took her first action. Did she acquit herself at least tolerably well?" She looked a little embarrassed to be asking, but met his eyes forthrightly.

"She did very well," Laurence assured her. "Saved my life. Of course," he added, "she and poor Digby were sick in the corner, after, but it takes you like that the first few times. I hadn't intended she be in any danger, you must believe me, but I'm afraid I was afforded very little say in the matter."

"Oh, as for that," Jane waved a hand dismissively, "it's part of being in the Corps. Was bound to happen sooner or later, though I daresay I was a good bit older, myself, before I was in the thick of it like that. Still, it's wartime, it can't be helped." She put one hand on Laurence's arm and looked over at him seriously. "But I must ask you to look out for her, Laurence – Will – you _will_ keep her in your crew, will you not? Can you promise me?"

"Of course! Emily is my best runner, and if her letters and figures still leave something to be desired, well, I am sure we can rectify that with time and effort. I have no reason to dismiss her, if that is your concern." Laurence remembered Jane's earlier worry over her daughter's performance, but he spoke truly; Emily was an essential part of his crew, and he was very pleased with her conduct.

"I didn't think you had. It's just, Laurence, can you imagine Emily being any sort of respectable woman outside the Corps? I raised her to the Corps, and soon there will be no place for a lady captain here at all. She must stay on your crew if she is to remain."

Laurence started. "No place at all? Surely there could be an egg found for her, even one of the lesser breeds?" There must be some way for her to continue in the Corps; Jane was right, it was unconscionable to think of her elsewhere.

Jane shook her head and honked noisily into the handkerchief again. "There were few enough Longwings to begin with, and Lily and Excidium are the last two left, with no eggs laid before they all got so very sick. There are a few lesser eggs from other breeds, true, but there are far too many boys ahead of her for her to have any chance at one, Laurence, and soon there will be no more dragons to lay more."

Laurence was silent, shocked. He had known the situation was dire, but it had never occurred to him how it would impact the aviators themselves. They were an unusual group, born and raised to the life they led and cloistered in the coverts. Their manners and ways meshed uneasily with wider society, indeed, when they could be made to mesh at all; Laurence thought of himself as a tolerably open-minded fellow, but even he had had a great deal of difficulty adjusting to the casual familiarity and easy mores of covert life.

He put his arm around her again and leaned in. "I promise you, Jane. Emily will stay in my crew. And if there is any chance for her advancement – if a cure is found, or," he broke off as Jane gave a horrible rasping wail and began shaking against his shoulder. Crying women had always made him uneasy, and she already had his only handkerchief; he settled for saying nothing and holding her tight until she got herself under control again.

"Thank you," she snuffled into his shoulder, after her sobs had turned to hiccups and hitching breaths. "I have been so afraid for her – so afraid for us all, of course, but there is nothing to be done for the rest of it, nothing, and you ease my mind greatly about Emily, at least." She straightened up and blew her nose into the much-abused cloth of his handkerchief again.

Laurence patted her shoulder awkwardly. He gazed out toward the line of trees that screened the sand pits and Excidium from view, and another piece of realization came crashing down.

"What about you, Jane? What will you do?" He wanted to take it back as soon as it was said, the blunt and insensitive nature and timing of his question immediately apparent, but Jane only sat up straighter. She wiped at her cheeks and didn't look at Laurence.

"I have my pension, of course, and there are still some dragons left to care for in Ireland; Lenton is a good man, and he will give the women a place if he can; he knows we have fewer prospects than the fellows and means to look out for our interests."

Laurence could not imagine Jane as anything but a fighting captain, and he was doubtful that Lenton retained much influence at all at this point, with his fighting force brought so low. He thought for a wild moment he might find Jane a place on his own crew, but before he had even begun to consider it he knew that it would not do; two captains on one dragon could lead only to resentment and conflict in the crew, no matter how well-intentioned the gesture.

"You could," he blurted out, "you could marry me."

There was a long, shocked moment in which they both went very still and quiet, and then she made a strangled noise and her shoulders began to shake again, and Laurence very nearly panicked before he realized that she was laughing.

And then he went stiff, offended and hurt for the blink of an eye – but his pique lasted only as long as it took him to remember that this was _Jane_, and then they were both laughing, clinging to one another desperately and gasping for breath. Laurence realized that he hadn't laughed, a real, deep belly laugh, since…well, he couldn't remember when. It felt good, honest and clean, and every time he tried to stop, Jane would look at him and snort and then he'd start again. It was a very long time before they were able to breathe without giggling or setting one another off.

Jane flopped back on her elbows on the brick, heedless of the damage to her coat. "Lord, Laurence, how I needed that. Can you imagine what a wife I'd make? Field rations for suppers and dust-mice in the corners, most like, and I'd wager you know more about sewing and mending than I ever will."

It was true; the emphasis the Navy placed on personal tidiness and general cleanliness had never caught on among aviators, who had staff to clean their rooms and halls and mend their clothing, if they bothered to notice it needed mending at all. Laurence grinned as he imagined Jane swearing colorfully as she stabbed at some piece of fancywork, or holding forth disastrously at a dinner for society ladies.

"Why, you'd be the toast of London society, I'm sure," Laurence teased. He leaned down and kissed her, and Jane smiled against his mouth before returning the kiss enthusiastically. What started with shared affection and amusement flickered quickly into the bright burn of lust; it had been more than a year since he'd last touched her, and his body responded eagerly. She seemed no less enthusiastic, and she kissed him deeply, bringing him down to lie atop her and slipping one of her hands down to his arse, pulling him against her with sudden fierceness.

There is a certain urgency to sweetness in bitter times, as though it may never come again, and they were rough and hasty with one another in their need. Fortunately so, too; no sooner had Jane gasped out her pleasure with little cries than they heard Emily's voice, singing beyond the treeline, and both tumbled off the block in a flurry of fumble-fingered buttoning and tucking that was only just fast enough.

If Emily noticed any disarray or telltale flush when she came into sight a moment later, Laurence could not see it in her face; he rather thought her still too young to notice such things, though after their talk at the ferals' hot spring he was no longer sure what young Roland did and did not understand. She was already talking as she ran up to them, her face shining with excitement.

"He says he feels much better, Mama, and I cleaned his face really well and his claws and told him about China and the ship burning and the Sultan and everything and then I cleaned his face again after he sneezed and dirtied it. Please, Laurence, can we come back again soon? He said he'd like it if I came back, and I promised I'd tell him more about Auerstadt and what the French did to the formations and…"

"I hope you stayed well to the side, Emily!" Jane exclaimed, interrupting the torrent of words, and got a roll of Emily's eyes in reply.

"I'm not a baby, Mother; I know better than to stand in front of a Longwing with a head cold!"

Laurence eyed Emily's spattered work clothing and the repulsive bucket of rags and murky liquid she still held. "We will come back if we can; you know as well as I that we are all subject to the requirements of the service," he told her. "Now go and clean yourself _thoroughly_, top to bottom, and scrub those clothes and get rid of that awful sludge before you go anywhere near poor Temeraire."

Emily saluted cheerfully, undaunted by his distaste, and ran off, the disgusting bucket slopping at her side.

They watched her go in silence, and Laurence took Jane's hand. "You know we will come back if we can. The First Lords meet again in another three days, in London, and I am to address them on the subject of the state of the war on the continent. I do not know what action they will take, if indeed they take action at all, but perhaps wiser minds than mine may think of something that may be done." He did not say that his faith in the wisdom of Admirals had been greatly shaken since the Chinese Prince had appeared, but Jane had not forgotten, either.

"And they have forgotten all the foolishness, then, with that idiot Barham no longer among them?"

"Lenton says so. They cannot very well complain that I have brought them back a fighting dragon, and several more that may well serve." Laurence was privately unsure of this, but he continued. "And Temeraire says that anyway if they threaten me again, he will go back to China, where I am a Prince and he can read poetry all day, and be damned to their foolish wars." He smiled wryly.

Jane snorted. "That does sound like him. Yes, I rather imagine that you hold the trump card, at this point, with Temeraire and his ragtag band of pressed ferals the only dragons in the land fit to fight. I wish you luck, Laurence; I hear the new lot of Admirals that have come in with Fox are as stuffy and stupid as the last, but for your sake I hope it is not so."

Laurence held out little hope of that, but he said nothing. He had promised Temeraire that he would make a change, and he would try, but the Admiralty was nothing if not resistant to change. He offered Jane his arm in lieu of reply. "Well, we need not leave for another hour yet at least. Shall we go see what the kitchen has to offer us in the way of an evening meal?"

"Yes, and you have not yet told me how it is that you are a Prince with a court of feral dragons, either," Jane said, linking her arm with his and tugging him awkwardly along as she set out with her long, determined stride. "You and Emily must tell me at least that much more over supper, before I have to give you up to the Admiralty, pestilential lot of old powdered farts that they are."

Laurence grinned at her. "Are you sure you have no wish to be a Chinese Princess? I feel I could marry you for your elegant and refined political commentary alone, my dear."

Jane relinquished his arm only to cuff him alongside his head. "Hush," she said, but she was smiling.


End file.
